Fairy Wine and Chocolate
by but-not-peculiar
Summary: Harry's miserable and Draco has some potent wine. Whatever will happen next?


This is my first fic! I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, as you might guess judging from my characters' acceptance of their gay

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Draco carefully poked through each of the books on the shelf in front of him. He was looking for a very specific potions text, which he knew was under a subtle Disillusionment Charm. It didn't make the object take the appearance of its surroundings like a regular Disillusionment Charm would, but rather it made it so that you could only see it when you were looking at it with purpose and knowledge. Finally he found it and pulled it off the shelf.

Through the hole the book left in the shelf, he saw something that rather surprised him.

Harry Potter, he of adequate Potions abilities and miniscule enthusiasm, was sitting at a table on the other side of the shelf, in the Potions and Brewing section of the Hogwarts library, perusing a giant tome and looking more or less at ease.

Draco took a leisurely minute to admire the other boy. His glasses, shining in the dusty light of the sunset-sprinkled library, did nothing to hide the brilliant color of his eyes. His head rested on one hand, the fingers of which were tangled in his messy black hair, hair which Draco could not deny he had often fantasized about running his own fingers through. Although he didn't seem to be particularly tense or stressed, Draco now noticed Harry looked rather tired. Not just tired from lack of sleep, either. It was a tired that spoke of world-weariness, a certain resigned irritation with his existence.

Draco didn't like it. He was used to the confident Harry who, these days, returned Draco's cheerful barbs with good humor, who laughed with his friends, and who had seemed to have left the depression and angst of previous years behind in the pyre where the pathetic, barely human body of Tom Riddle had been destroyed forever.

He left his peephole and went around the shelf to talk to Harry. Their relationship was now one of easy rivalry. They would greet each other in the hallways, often with an insult and a playful laugh, and their fights were quickly forgotten and never serious.

Draco still wasn't sure how it had happened. He thought it probably started with the day Harry had brought back his wand. He had stumbled over the most broken, inarticulate thank you he thought the world had ever witnessed. And Harry had known it was for more than just the wand.

"Thank _you_. If it hadn't been for you, I—and more importantly, my friends—would be dead. I cannot thank you enough."

Draco had started to stammer a protest. There had been so many things wrong with that, so many reasons Harry should never thank him. And again, somehow, Harry had understood every word spoken and unspoken.

"We could go through every day since we first met and count our debts, but I'm fairly sure we'd come out even," he said. Then he had grinned, and the sight of it had made Draco's heart stop. "Well," he had added. "You might owe me a couple drinks just for being a prat. See you at Hogwarts?"

Draco had nodded weakly and been left to gape at the spot where Harry had turned and vanished with a jaunty wave. He was sure that the black-haired Savior of All had absolutely no clue what his words had done to his ex-arch-nemesis, but the fact of the matter was that they had turned Draco's knees to jelly. Though Draco knew that Harry was straight as a pin and probably still somewhat disgusted with him, his words had come out to his long-time secret admirer sounding deliciously flirtatious.

Draco took a deep, quiet breath before walking around the table and sitting in the seat across from Harry. Even though they were on silently good terms and interacted regularly, he still got butterflies whenever he spoke to him. Scratch that. Whenever he looked at him.

"So where are your precious followers today, Potter? Not off snogging without you, I hope?" he smirked. He knew it was bad news when Harry glanced up briefly and just barely smiled and rolled his eyes. Draco could _always_ get a laugh out of Harry by insinuating a shared sexual relationship with Weasley and Granger. He didn't know why, but it worked and he loved the sound of Harry's laugh, so why question it? He felt himself get more serious than he had expected.

"Ooh. Bad day with the friends then?" he asked sympathetically, surprising himself.

Harry studied him for a long moment, which Draco immediately assumed was a bad sign.

He shouldn't have though. In truth, Harry was surprised, impressed, and overly touched that Draco would understand that, let alone ask about it. He was just trying to decide what to say since the reason he was having a bad day had much to do about the blond beauty in front of him. He had just told Ron and Hermione that he had a crush on Draco Malfoy, and Ron had not taken it well. He had yelled, he had told Harry he was insane, ill, evil, and had threatened to stop being his friend. Hermione had managed to calm him down and had taken him away to have a talk. Of course, she'd known before Harry himself had. Now he was looking through an old book of brews, looking for something that was stronger than Firewhiskey and easier to drink.

He watched Draco for a couple more seconds, deliberating and trying not to be distracted by the soft pink lips and shining grey eyes in front of him, then decided on; "Ron doesn't want to let me snog who I want."

Draco looked confused.

"Isn't it sort of old news that you're with his sister?" Then comprehension dawned in his face "Or are you two breaking up? Did you cheat on her?"

Harry nearly laughed out loud, earning a glare from Draco.

"Merlin, Malfoy. I thought you'd be one to keep up on gossip. Ginny and I haven't been together since Sixth Year." Harry was fascinated to see the slightest of pink blushes appear on Draco's pale cheeks. He thought it was sort of adorable.

"Well, anyway. He doesn't have any right to say who you get to be with. Besides. She can't be that bad can she?"

Harry bit his lip, not sure whether to blush or laugh or cry. He wanted to ask Draco why he was so sure it was a girl. He wanted to make something up. He wanted to tell Draco the truth. He knew Draco would never feel the same way about him.

Draco had difficulty tearing his gaze away from the lip that Harry was biting. He wanted to reach over and tease it away from the tooth, to stroke it softly, to run his tongue over it—he jerked his eyes away and looked at the book as an excuse to look away from Harry all together.

It wasn't a Potions book exactly. It was a guide to brewing magical alcoholic drinks.

"So you've decided to come here and find a way to distract yourself by getting totally pissed."

"Umm…yeah pretty much."

Draco rolled his eyes at this rather unoriginal solution. Then he remembered.

"I seem to recall I owe you a few drinks," he said. "I think I could get started on getting you those. Then you wouldn't have to wait until your own is done."

Harry looked at him doubtfully. "Do you have access to that? I mean I know you're rich but Filch is mental about the alcohol thing."

Draco smirked smugly. "Ah, but you see, with my father in prison, I am the current Lord of Malfoy Manor, which means I can summon my House-elves into Hogwarts. And, if its existence were common knowledge, our wine cellar would be incredibly famous for its size and quality."

Harry looked appropriately impressed, then doubtful again. "Thanks, really. But I don't think wine is going to cut it tonight."

Draco's smirk widened. "Oh but my dear fellow, this isn't just any wine. This is 200 year-old fairy wine. It's stronger than Firewhiskey, but without the after effects, and it is wonderfully delicious."

Harry gaped at him. Draco had just listed the very qualities that he had been searching for in the book. Draco's look of smugness only increased as Harry stared. He snapped his fingers and there was a loud pop, followed by the familiar sounds of a House-elf.

"Master Draco has called Nudgy all the way to Hogwarts! What is Master Draco needing that is so urgent?" Nudgy asked anxiously.

"Nudgy, I'd like you to bring me two bottles of the fairy wine that Cygnus Black lay down," Draco said. In under a minute Nudgy returned hefting two bottles of wine that looked far too large for her to be able to lift. "Thank you Nudgy, that will be all." The little House-elf curtsied and disappeared with another loud crack.

Harry felt a little overwhelmed. He knew he shouldn't. It was probably nothing to Draco, but nevertheless it set his pulse going a little faster and he was sure he was blushing a little. He stared at the bottles. If this wine was what Draco had said it was, then he would never finish it all by himself.

"One bottle for later. Just in case the Weasel is ever being a git again and I'm not around to help you get plastered."

Harry laughed weakly. Now he had the wine, he wasn't sure it would be a good idea to just go and get drunk by himself. As the thought occurred, so did another. But Draco couldn't possibly want—they weren't really friends...

"Malfoy. Uh...d'you want to maybe help me drink this later?" he forced out nervously.

From the look on Draco's face, he shouldn't have been worried. He beamed at him. "I'd love to. I've always wanted to see what sort of a moron you are when you're drunk," He teased. After a pause, he hesitantly added; "and you're welcome to call me Draco. Just between us though. Wouldn't want anyone to know we're speaking to each other eh? Sometimes I think the people in this school like our fighting more than we ever did."

Harry was thankful for Draco's teasing tone of voice. It gave him an excuse to cover up his stammer with a laugh. "Well I'm Harry then," he grinned. He held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Draco."

"The pleasure is all mine, Harry," Draco said, taking his hand. Neither of them noticed how the other barely concealed a jump of pleasure hearing their own name pronounced—they were too busy trying to hide their own reactions. "Now, I don't know where you were planning on doing this, but I know a good place in the dungeons. None of the staff seem to know about it, but past students have furnished it—old classroom, but now it's a good hideout."

"Sounds good. How about I meet you outside your common room about 10:30?"

"Fine. See you tonight then?"

"Yeah. See you," Harry grinned. He watched Draco go. As soon as he was out of sight, Harry released a long breath and buried his head in his hands. What had he done? He wasn't sure how well he could trust himself around Draco, especially when drunk. And now for the next five hours he would be worrying about later that night. He shook his head, packed up his things, and headed to the Great Hall to eat dinner with Neville and ignore Ron.

Draco noticed. He was giddy and nervous at the same time, and barely noticed much else, but he did see that Harry had chosen to sit with Longbottom instead of with his closer friends. He thought it must be really bad if Harry wasn't even willing to let the Granger girl try to make them talk to each other.

Five hours later, Harry was nervously standing by the blank wall he knew was the entrance to the Slytherin common room, hidden under his invisibility cloak. His palms were sweating so much that he was afraid he would drop the bottle in his hand.

After what seemed like ages, Draco stepped through the wall. If Harry hadn't been so preoccupied with steeling himself, he might have noticed that Draco too looked a little nervy. He did however see the look of disappointment cross Draco's face as he glanced both ways down the corridor, and nearly kicked himself.

He had forgotten that Draco most likely did not have Dumbledore's talent for seeing through Invisibility Cloaks. He slipped the cloak from his head and whispered to the blond. "Draco! Over here!"

The boy in question jumped, saw Harry's floating head, and jumped again.

"Merlin! Don't do that!"

"Sorry! Come on, get under here," Harry said, holding up the cloak. "Filch is poking around this corridor." Draco nodded and slipped under the cloak with him. "Did I scare poor Draco, then?" Harry teased, elbowing him with a grin.

"Oh shut up," was the only reply he got, though if he had looked closer in better light, he would have seen a blush on those pale cheeks.

The cloak just barely fit over the two of them, and Harry was sure that the bottoms of their shoes were visible, but he had more important things to worry about, namely the fact that Draco Malfoy was standing so close to him that their arms never once lost contact.

"So, where is this place?" Harry asked under his breath.

"It's up this way," Draco responded, grateful that they were whispering. It hid his breathlessness somewhat as he tore his attention away from the warmth against his arm that was Harry. He led the way down into the dungeons, constantly aware of their fingers brushing and the way the sound of their breathing was caught in the fabric of the cloak, mingling. They stepped through a tapestry-covered doorway and down the corridor which led to the forgotten classroom.

"Here we are, then," he said, opening the door and stepping inside. Harry quickly whipped the cloak off the two of them and stepped away as Draco lit the candles all over the room with a wave of his wand. It didn't look like anyone had been there since his last visit. The desks and chairs had been moved to the edges of the room, and next to the fireplace there was some old furniture; a carpet and a sofa, with a small table in front. A few of the desks were nearby and were full of candles. Draco pointed his wand at the fireplace to start a cheery fire and plopped down on one end of the sofa with a content sigh, kicking off his shoes.

Harry, less at home here and still nervous, shuffled to the sofa and sat down. He stared around the room. It was surprisingly cozy for a place which he imagined Slytherins had arranged. The sofa they were sitting on was even red. It was a small classroom and probably hadn't been used as such since homeschooling wizards became less popular and class sizes had increased a hundred years or so ago. The desks certainly looked even older than those in most of the school—heavy and stable and dark. The candles, which didn't seem to be burning down at all, cast a pleasant glow over the room which reached every corner but didn't overwhelm.

It crossed his mind that it would be an excellent place to shag.

He shook his head mentally, his face going hot. He couldn't think that way around Draco. He didn't want to ruin the friendship that was sparking between them.

He looked at Draco, who was concentrating on transfiguring two mugs that had been left by other students into glasses. For a moment, he watched the way the firelight flickered over Draco's pale, perfect skin, the way it played off his cheekbones and filtered through his fine gold hair, highlighting the warm tints that he was sure a Malfoy would never admit might have trickled down from that ancient illicit affair with the Weasleys.

He was awoken from his reverie by Draco cursing very quietly. One mug was slightly more transparent, and the other had bulged at the bottom in imitation of the shape of a wine glass, but neither was near fully transfigured.

He snickered and Draco glared.

"Mugs are fine, really Draco," he laughed, secretly relishing the sound of the name on his tongue. "You would think that that would be a simple thing to do, but somehow I've never gotten the hang of it."

"Yeah, but I'm really good at Transfiguration! I conjured a snake in Second year, for Merlin's sake!" Draco said, thoroughly put out.

Harry laughed again. "I remember," he said. He magicked the cork out of the bottle and leaned forward to pour generous helpings of the wine into each mug.

"How dreadfully uncouth of you," Draco drawled, a smile in his voice. "Drinking fairy wine from mismatched mugs. Just wait 'til my father hears about this. He'll have a fit." His smirk became a grin as Harry met his eyes with one raised eyebrow. "Hmm. All the more reason, I suppose."

Harry laughed. "To aggravating your father, then," he said, raising his mug in toast.

"And to pissing off Weasley. I assume he'd be angry if he knew you were getting pickled with me and without him?" Draco replied. He lifted his cup as he settled back against the arm of the sofa, facing Harry with his feet on the cushion in front of him.

"Livid," Harry snorted. Draco had no idea just how livid Ron would be or why. "Cheers."

They both tipped back their mugs, taking long sips. Draco grinned, satisfied, at the expression Harry wore as he savored his first taste of fairy wine. It was almost like dark chocolate the way it was sweet and bitter and perfect and beyond description, but it was also fruity and spicy. And it was like crisp water fresh from a mountain stream the way it refreshed and quenched and left you wanting more. But best of all was the way it rolled down your throat into your stomach, sending out soft waves of gentle warmth like a cup of your favorite tea with a dash of whiskey on a cold wintery day.

Harry stared at the dark liquid in his mug in awe. It was perfect.

"Good, isn't it?" Draco asked smugly.

"Excellent!" Harry replied. He took another sip. He could already feel the slightest warm haze around his eyes and ears and fingertips that indicated he was getting a slight buzz.

They sipped for a moment in awkward silence. Something had changed as soon as they planned to spend time together, and neither of them was quite sure how to navigate the waters of what might be an actual friendship with the man they each loved.

"So what exactly makes Weasley so opposed to this girl, anyway?" Draco asked, studying the delicate skin of Harry's eyelids as he closed them and savored the wine. He looked relaxed enough that he thought he could risk asking. He looked gorgeous, too.

Harry frowned a tiny, slow frown and kept his eyes closed. He was bursting to just tell Draco, and he was afraid he would if he looked at him. The wine was just making him more beautiful, helped in no small amount by soft, flickering, warm light in the room. What to say? He wouldn't lie. Part of him wanted Draco to just guess. If he could know without Harry actually saying it, then Draco wouldn't have to come up with a way to reject him, and Harry wouldn't have to hear it.

"Ron isn't very good at letting things go, that's all," Harry said. There. It was true. Ron was still far angrier at Draco for everything he had ever done than Harry had ever been.

"So…what, is she his ex-girlfriend or something?" Draco asked. He didn't expect the loud laugh from Harry. He suspected it was somewhat of an inside joke, and felt rather put out that he didn't get it.

"No! Absolutely not!" Harry exclaimed, still laughing. Forgetting his resolve to not look at Draco while discussing the object of his affections, he opened his eyes. For some reason it was even more terribly funny to him than it should have been. Perhaps he had forgotten for a moment that Draco didn't know he was gay, or he had imagined Draco with Ron. "Good God! You do realize the only other person Ron's been with is Lavender Brown, right?" He shuddered, and then giggled again at the thought.

"Well then why doesn't he like her?"

Harry thought he could tell from Draco's pouty insistence that the wine was starting to get to him as well. This stuff worked fast.

Harry shrugged. "Stuff," he said intelligently. "Besides, why are we talking about me?" He toed his shoes off and pulled his knees up to his chest defensively.

"Cuz you're the one that's got a great sodding git for a best friend. And it's not like it's the first time he's done this sort of thing, is it?"

"No, I suppose not," Harry said sulkily. It didn't quite occur to him to ask how Draco even knew that, because now that he thought about it, Ron was very good at being an asshole over stupid things. Thinking Harry had put his name in the Goblet of Fire, yelling at Hermione for "fraternizing" with Victor Krum. And although Harry had mostly forgiven him for it, Ron's decision to abandon them in the woods during the war still stung. And those were only the longest, most painful fights; he hadn't spoken to either Seamus or Harry for a week after Seamus got drunk and kissed Harry one New Year's; he ignored Harry and Hermione for a day after they forgot to tell him they were going down to visit Hagrid; and when a second-year accidentally turned his hair purple for two days, he yelled at Hermione for not being able to fix it and hid in the dormitory until the purple was gone. As if Hogwarts students didn't regularly have oddly-colored hair every once in a while.

To his hazy horror, he felt his face begin to crumple. He was tired of Ron being childish and mean, he was more hurt than he would ever admit that Ron had rejected Harry's feelings for Draco. It was hard enough having a massive crush on your arch-enemy without your best friend saying it was wrong. He thought he deserved better friends than that.

Draco watched in dismay as Harry clutched his mug and scrunched up his face and huddled down towards his knees, making himself smaller than Draco would have ever thought possible as he desperately tried not to cry.

"I'm sorry!" Draco exclaimed as he lunged forward to wrap his arms tightly around Harry's shaking shoulders. "I didn't mean it, not really. I'm sure he's fine most of the time, yeah?"

But to his alarm, the messy black head shook his head violently and the sobs began in earnest.

"He's not!" Harry said brokenly. "He does this all the time! Anything he doesn't like, it's the end of the fucking world! I'm sick of it!"

Draco started rubbing Harry's arm and back, murmuring soothing phrases as he listened in shock to the quivering mass of ranting Savior in his arms. Only now he was just Harry, and Draco couldn't decide if he was glad he got to see it or furious that someone had been able to strip away the confidence that he had seen lately.

He settled on mostly mad as the words flowed out of Harry's mouth.

"I mean I got it before the war, when he was jealous and he thought I was leaving off being his friend for fame, even if he should have known I wasn't. But now? I mean seriously, he's nearly as famous as me isn't he?" Harry was only just intelligible through his tears now. "_Stupid_ things, that's all he cares about. Always expecting us to take care of him, help him with his homework, but God forbid _we _have a problem! Oh no! If one of _us_ doesn't get it, or likes the wrong sort of person, that's it! He can't take it. If Hermione feels sad, he's out the door, if I come out to him, he's off on a rant. His own best friends!..." Harry continued, but Draco missed it.

He was sure Harry had just said "come out." Did that mean he was gay? Or was this a hypothetical situation? Had he heard wrong? He held Harry closer and listened harder.

"…every single bloody day it's another stupid thing! My socks smell, I got ink on his book, I say stupid things. And now apparently I'm just too fucking queer! I mean honestly," and here he looked up at a shocked Draco with reddened, swollen, wet eyes, "Hermione knew for ages! _Everyone_ knew!"

He sniffled in a way that made Draco's heart fill up with tenderness and hope and fierce protectiveness.

While Draco was processing this new information, it dawned on Harry that he had just told him he was gay. Shame and fear swept through him and his sobs became more breathless and choked and painful. This was so embarrassing—he never got this emotional when he was drunk, and now he had just spilled his secret. Draco was about to pull away, he just knew it. There was an odd fiery glint in his eyes that could only mean something bad. It was just pity that kept his arms around him for a moment. Soon enough, Harry was sure Draco would be drawing away, patting his back awkwardly, and going back to his side of the sofa.

But Draco stayed wrapped around him until he had mastered his breathing somewhat. He gently pried the mug of wine from Harry's fingers, setting it on the coffee table while keeping one arm firmly around Harry's shoulders. Then he sat back, just a little, to look into Harry's eyes.

"He's mad at you because you're gay?" he asked. The question was calm, but suddenly Harry had the feeling that he should be more concerned for Ron's safety than the loss of Draco's friendship.

He nodded, then shook his head, then shrugged. "Sort of? I—I don't think he'd be so upset if I liked Charlie, or even Seamus once he got used to it…but…" he trailed off, sniffing more. Harry laid his head on his knees and took long, shaky breaths. He needed to get a grip, but all he wanted to do was melt into Draco's warm arms and let it all out.

As he pressed his forehead into his knees, he felt a soft hand on his cheek, gently pulling his face up. He let it, but he kept his eyes closed. The fingers slipped down over his neck, sending tingles of surprised pleasure down his spine, the thumb still stroking his cheek. Oh, how he wanted to let that caress consume him.

"Harry," Draco said ever so gently. "Look at me, Harry."

Harry forced open his eyes. His glasses were wet and a little fogged up, but Draco's grey eyes shone clearly through.

"Now listen to me. Ron Weasley has absolutely no right to say who you can love. If you wanted to—oh, I don't know…shag Professor Umbridge, say—" Here Draco was cut off by the sound of Harry gagging. The smallest of smiles was dancing around his lips, though, and Draco continued. "Well, we'd all be concerned for your sanity, but not a single person who calls themselves your friend would have any right telling you to not love her. The exact same thing goes for anyone else, even if they are a bloke, whether he's gorgeous or a right troll."

Harry chuckled quietly, smiling tearfully up at Draco.

"Thank you," he said after a long moment of silence. "None of my other friends told me that. I mean I knew it, sort of...but thanks."

Draco sat back and looked at him incredulously. "Your friends knew and they didn't tell you anything like that?"

"Well I only told them today…and when they found out who…they think I'm crazy for liking him—except Seamus of course, but then he really would shag Umbridge, so I'm not sure he counts."

"Who is this guy anyway?" Draco asked, sitting back and looking at Harry skeptically. He was having a hard time believing anyone other than himself could be so disliked. It didn't even occur to him that he could possibly be the one Harry fancied. After all, he'd just numbered Draco among his friends.

"It's not important. He'd never like me back anyway. I should've just come out and left it at that."

"Oh come off it, Harry. You could probably convince half the straight men at this school they were bent just by winking at them," Draco said. Some clear-headed part of his mind was telling him to stop talking, but a warm fuzzy blanket was trying to smother it. "I mean look at you—you're gorgeous. Your eyes, for starters. I don't know if you realize this, but that sort of green isn't exactly common." He vaguely recognized that Harry's face was turning a delightful shade of pink. "And then your hair—I might make fun of it, but really. You probably have no idea what it does to people when you look like you just stumbled out of a broom closet after a quick shag, do you?"

Harry shook his head violently. Partly to clear his head—he couldn't be hearing this correctly—and partly because he had had no clue that his hair could be interpreted as anything other than an absurd, unappealing mess.

"And your flying. Honestly, that might be the most effective way to seduce the men at this school. You are beautiful when you fly. You should really probably just go for it—find this bloke and just…I don't know. Grab his face and kiss him." Draco felt his voice turn sulky. He wanted to be supportive, friendly, maybe even stay in the wings for when Harry's heart was broken by the lucky bastard he fancied, but more than that he just wanted Harry.

Harry gaped. Draco Malfoy had just called _him_ beautiful. How did that make any sense? He was specky and skinny and his hair was impossible. He had also told him to go for it. If Draco thought that Harry could turn straight men gay, then surely that meant by extension Draco himself.

He steeled himself

"You're the beautiful one," Harry muttered, and without waiting for Draco's response and before he could lose his nerve, he grabbed the other boys face and pressed his lips against his mouth.

Draco tasted like wine and apples and something spicy and the best thing Harry had ever tasted in his life. Ever.

Draco's complete shock was quickly replaced with elation. He slid his hand back around Harry's neck to pull him closer, his mind reeling. Harry's lips were warmer and softer and sweeter than he had ever imagined. And Harry liked him? Doubt flitted through his mind and caused him to gently push Harry back.

"D'you really fancy _me_?" Draco asked incredulously.

Harry's stomach dropped. "Yes…y-you don't mind do you?" He asked nervously. He had thought that Draco had been kissing him back, but maybe he had been mistaken.

"God no, I've liked you for ages," he laughed breathlessly.

Harry's heart swelled and he felt his face split into an embarrassingly huge grin which he had absolutely no control over whatsoever.

"How long?" He asked teasingly, letting his hands begin to stroke Draco's hair and neck and chest.

Draco groaned, only partly because of the question. "You're really going to make me answer that question aren't you?"

"Absolutely," Harry said, his grin becoming both wider and slier.

Draco chuckled and caught one of Harry's hands in his own. "I realized I found you far more attractive than I should the day that you had to face that fucking dragon. And I realized that I liked you when I lost my position as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad and no longer had an excuse to follow you around," he said, punctuating his words with kisses to Harry's fingers. "But to be honest, I think I was lost from the very first moment I saw you in Madame Malkin's."

Harry…_giggled_. Not that he would ever admit to it, but his eyes were starting to fill with happy embarrassed tears, and a strange laugh bubbled up and out from the spot in his chest right behind his heart. He took a deep breath.

"I don't think I really knew I liked you until I nearly killed you and realized just how important you were to me," he confessed somberly, "but looking back I realize how stupid I was. I was always so angry when I saw you with Parkinson, and I never wanted anything more than to get my hands on you."

They sat in silence for a moment, Draco looking at Harry in awe as the other stared hard at the hand that had come to rest over Draco's heart.

Draco was the one to break the silence.

"Harry…would you be my boyfriend?"

Harry stared at him, and laughed. It was like First Year all over again, but so much better. In response, he lunged forward again, catching Draco's lips and tongue with his own, and accidentally knocking him flat on his back.

"Sorry," he mumbled breathlessly against his throat.

Draco chuckled to himself and then laughed out loud. Harry felt his heart swell at the sound. He didn't think he had ever heard that laugh—it was a proper one, coming straight from Draco's belly and filling with happiness and good humor as it escaped.

Harry joined in before leaning in to snag his lips again, because kissing Draco Malfoy was like drowning and like breaking the surface and like drinking deep all at once. It was like fairy wine and treacle tart and chocolate—warming and delicious and _right_.


End file.
